In Which
by WolfLuvr1977
Summary: A series of humorous ficlets about our favorite group of characters from our favorite books and movies :) We saw what happened to them during the most trying times of their journeys, but what happened behind the scenes? How does Legolas' hair stay so perfect? Is Gandalf really a prankster at heart? Find out! I started you out with two, but there are more to come! Remember to R&R!
1. In Which Frodo Witholds Bread

**The following series of humorous ficlets was written by yours truly and meant to be enjoyed for those looking for a laugh :). I am a huge fan of Tolkien and his books as well as Peter Jackson's amazing movies however I always like to mess around with my favorite characters a bit for my own amusement. **

**Many of these stemmed from prompts by my friend (another huge fan of Lord of the Rings) and others came straight out of my noggin. These stories aren't what I usually write so if you have any suggestions please review, or if you like them please review, or if you have nothing better to do for the subsequent 30 seconds after you read this please review :)**

**On to the formalities, as much as I would like to, I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. Anything in these stories that my have something to do with anyone else's story is purely coincidence and should be taken as such. **

**This first ficlet was inspired by a "what-if" scenario created by my friend Dia and I, enjoy!**

"Just one piece Mr. Frodo," Sam pleaded. He had been asking his companion for the last few hours. His stomach grumbled in the meantime, but Frodo continued to nibble on the lembas bread, without any intention of sharing.

"No Sam!" Frodo yelled. His voice had taken on a squeaky quality since they had set off on their own. Maybe it was the mountain air, or maybe it was the anxiety brought on by the ring. Either way, Sam was not a fan. "I'm the ring bearer, I say when and if we share food!"

" , how am I supposed to keep up with you if I have not the strength to climb these hills? Or fight off an attacker?" Sam said, trying to reason with his friend.

Frodo simply laughed, "I don't think you would be able to fight off a field mouse, with or without bread!" he said through his rather girlish laughter.

Frodo's behavior made Sam think of Rosie Cotton and the way she couldn't control her laughter when she was told a good joke or story at the bar. Sam hadn't been able to make her laugh yet, perhaps talking to her would be a good start. Sam was brought back to the present when his stomach made a noise that sounded an awful lot like the Balrog in Moria.

"Please Frodo! I'll be naught but skin and bones by the time we reach the black gates, that is if I'm not dead," Sam said. He was starting to get very frustrated with Frodo, and was on the verge of tackling him to the ground to take his rightful slice of bread.

"Nope! As the leader I decide the rations," Frodo said, putting one hand on his hip while he brought his bread to his mouth with the other, ripping off a piece quite barbarically. He made absurd sounds as he chewed his food and was obnoxiously loud when he swallowed.

"If you're the leader, then I guess I'm just the follower, eh?" Sam said, quite distraught at this point.

"No," Frodo said, looking down on Sam, who had taken a seat on a nearby boulder, "You're the helper!" He had a stupid grin on his face that Sam wanted no more than to smack right off.

The blonde hobbit clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. This had gone too far. He stomach had been cramping from hunger for far too long. Frodo had some kind of "Ring Bearer" complex going on and he wanted no more of it.

Sam got up from his boulder, took Frodo by his collar and shoved him to the ground. Frodo's eyes grew wide and filled with surprise and fear. This was the last thing he expected to happen.

"Share the loaf!" Sam exclaimed. His voice boomed and echoed through the forest. The birds fell silent as his words hung in the air like smoke from Gandalf's pipe.

Frodo stayed quiet. Sam had never yelled like this before, at least not to him. He thought for a bit and came to the conclusion that it was more beneficial to feed the fat hobbit than try and force him to lose anymore weight. Frodo couldn't stand the fact that his only companion was the love child of poppy cakes and fatty meat, but he did make nice company.

Slowly, Frodo released his grip on his bread. "Fine, you may have your share of bread," he said calmly, "But next time, all you have to do is ask nicely."

Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed. He let go of Frodo's collar and snatched the bread from his hand. He walked quite a ways away from Frodo before finding a rock well suited to his rather large bottom. He sat down and held his hands around the smooth surface of the lembas. He gently stroked the edges with his fingers, "My precious."

The End!


	2. In Which Legolas Brushes His Hair

**This ficlet was inspired by a writing prompt given to me by Dia. The prompt read: "****Legolas brushes his hair. For an entire page. Single spaced." But I didn't want to kill your eyeballs so I spaced it out for you :)**_  
_

**Some preemptive explanation: Dia and I (and the rest of the world) have always wondered how Legolas keeps his hair perpetually perfect. Well he have the theory that he brushes his hair each night, 100 strokes on each side of his head. This is that theory in action. Hope you like it, and don't forget to review :)**

_One. _Legolas began on the right side today, his left side got all of the attention yesterday because he ended up sleeping on that side.

_Five. _He couldn't believe how tangled it had gotten over the past 24 hours. What a mess! Not only that (_Seven_), there was mud caked in it and a few patches of orc blood. Nothing he couldn't handle, but he could still do without it. _Eleven_. He began pondering about the days events. Wandering through Fangorn, finding Gandalf (whose hair looked amazing! He had been wanting to brush Gandalf the Grey's hair for a hundred years, but he never got the chance), and regaining hope for Merry and Pippin.

_Seventeen_. Just then, Legolas' hair hit a snag. He pulled and tugged and decided his only course of action was to brush through it really fast. _Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-one, Twenty-two, Twenty-three_. Finally, the brush was able to go through the spot smoothly. _Twenty-four_. He thought back to their encounter with the Rohirrim. That Eomer could really use a few hundred strokes through his hair a night, at least.

_Thirty_. Even his horse needed a comb through. Legolas had made sure that Arod's mane was properly groomed after seeing Shadowfax (he didn't want him to get jealous, because let's face it, that whole Lord of all Horses thing apparently did wonders for his locks). _Thirty-three_. Not to mention that Eomer's helmet desperately needed a wash. _I mean, he could have at least braided it, thirty-six_.

Legolas could hear Gandalf and Aragorn talking, surprisingly enough, over Gimli's extremely loud snoring. They're conversation consisted of all of the same old "the world is over! but there's still hope!" stuff, which Legolas found quite horrible. But as much as he tried not to listen, he was an eavesdropper by nature. _Forty_. He pictured the two of them standing next to each other. Gandalf with his newly groomed and practically perfect coif, and Aragorn with his greasy, smelly, head of hair that needed some serious tlc.

_Forty-two_. If Aragorn would only listen! Legolas had offered his brush to him to borrow (after much deliberation because of the risk of contamination). But Aragorn would have nothing of it, claiming that he couldn't accept such a generous offer. _Psh, humans, Forty-nine_.

Just then, Legolas realized that the air was very quiet. Not only were the wizard and human no longer talking, Gimli was no longer snoring. _Uh oh, fifty-three_. Legolas looked up. Standing around him were Gandalf, Aragorn, and Gimli. The elf couldn't tell if they were confused, amused, or saddened by his current activity. They all figured that he took care of his hair, but, not like this. Nothing like this.

_Fifty-seven_. "What are you doing?" asked Aragorn, a small grin beginning to form.

"What does it look like," Legolas replied, _fifty-nine_, "I'm sorry, I can't stop. We're just going to have to have this conversation while I keep going." _Sixty-one_.

"Are you serious laddy?" asked Gimli, he seemed the most surprised out of the group.

"Now, now, Gimli." Gandalf said, looking the most saddened, "We must respect other cultures customs." _Sixty-six_.

"But this is-" Gimli tried, "He's a- a bloody elven warrior!"

Legolas had heard that one before, but he had always concluded that, _seventy-three_, having the ability to shoot an arrow strait did not mean that hair care needed to be sacrificed.

"Aragorn," Gimli continued, "Maybe we should just leave him here." _Seventy-seven_. "Gimli!" Aragorn replied.

"Hey!" Legolas yelled, "I can fight just fine, actually a bit better, after I've brushed my hair. Do you have any idea how tangled this can get? I could get my hands caught in all of this! It's a wonder you don't get your caught up in that mess of a beard!" _Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty six._

"Well actually..." Gimli said, looking to the ground, "It has happened on occasion." Aragorn and Gandalf looked down and their small companion and laughed. In fact (_Ninety-two_), they were laughing so hard that they had to excuse themselves. _Ninety-five_.

"You don't suppose," Gimli said, walking closer to Legolas (_Ninety-eight_), "You could show me how to do that?" _Ninety-nine_.

"Of course my dear friend" said Legolas delighted that he could share his secrets with one of his friends. _One-hundred_. He could still hear Gandalf and Aragorn laughing in the distance. "Now, lets begin." _One. Two. Three..._


End file.
